Chapter 3

"Bitch! What did you do now?"

His eyes were bloodshot, his finger pointing at my nose.

"If you want to die, find some place where no one is and die there! Don't let us know even if you're dead! Stop tormenting us!"

I covered my face, staring at him blankly!

This father who used to let me sit on his shoulders, who cried harder than me at my wedding.

Right now, the way he looked at me was like looking at a pile of garbage in the way.

I clutched my chest hard, gasping for air several times before finally squeezing out a sound.

"Mom, Dad, just go. From now on... just pretend you only ever had Ava as a daughter."

Both of them froze at the same time.

My mom stopped crying, kneeling on the floor looking at me, seeming to want to say something but ultimately saying nothing.

My dad slowly lowered his raised hand, his lips moving, his expression complex.

Watching this scene, I suddenly remembered the first time I was rescued from slitting my wrists—my mom had held me and cried her heart out!

"Christina! If you die, how am I supposed to live? You can't be this selfish, you can't break my heart!"

But now, as she climbed up from the floor, she said coldly:

"I haven't wronged you in the slightest!

If it weren't for worrying you'd actually die and Ava would feel guilty and unable to move on for the rest of her life, I'd be too lazy to deal with you again and again!"

"Since you're saying these things today to threaten your father and me!

Then we're leaving right now! From now on, you figure things out yourself! We'll pretend we never had you!"

The two left one after another, and the world seemed to be left with only me again.

I curled up under the covers, burying my face in the pillow, crying my heart out.

I don't know how long passed before my phone vibrated.

It was a message from my dad.

"Christina, no matter what, we're your parents.

Even if we really did something wrong, you shouldn't have treated your mom that way. You're thirty years old—you should be mature now.

"Go back and reflect on your behavior, then go apologize to your mom."

"You're the older sister. It's normal for you to give way to Ava.

Not to mention you're the one who couldn't keep your man's heart—who can you blame for that?"

"As for Richards, everyone had good intentions.

Ava will treat him as her own. Richards growing up with Guillermo is better than being with you, right?

Look at yourself these past years, constantly trying to kill yourself. Richards would really suffer if he were with you."

"Stop making your mom sad. We're old and can't take this kind of stress."

Looking at this message, I found I couldn't cry anymore. My eyes were painfully dry.

It's always been like this since I was little.

In elementary school, Ava wanted the hair clip I'd saved half a year of allowance to buy. Mom said "give way to Ava," and I did.

In middle school, Ava wanted to join the school choir. Mom said "Ava has a good voice, let her have it," and I withdrew.

In high school, Ava wanted to go overseas for summer camp. There was only one spot.

Dad said "your grades are better than Ava's, let Ava go this time, you'll have other chances," and I nodded.

I gave way for eighteen years.

I thought I'd given up enough, until I met Guillermo.

It was my twentieth birthday. I sat alone on the school rooftop, letting the wind blow.

He had just finished a flight, ran up in his pilot's uniform, out of breath, handed me a half-melted cake and said:

"I heard it's someone's birthday today. I went to three stores to find your favorite ice cream cake."

I asked why he was so good to me.

He said: "Because you're worth it."

No one had ever said that to me before.

Guillermo let me know that I didn't have to give way.

The first time he held my hand, his palm was covered in sweat, his ears red as cooked shrimp.

He told me: "Christina, you don't need to fight for anything. I'll bring the best of everything to you."

I thought I finally had someone I didn't need to give way for.

But in the end, even he wanted me to give way.

I flipped my phone face down on the bed, curled up under the covers, and cried without making a sound.

I lay in the darkness with my eyes open, nails digging into my arm. It hurt, but not as much as the hole in my heart.

Finally, I still couldn't accept it and sent Guillermo a message.

"I know everything now. Let's meet."